The streets of Ephor bustled as usual, but inside the ducal palace, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Butler Adam prepared the carriage swiftly, bowing to Roman's earlier command. Selena, without hesitation, buckled her sword to her waist. Her eyes, though filled with worry, carried a spark of determination.
"You are coming as well, Butler Adam?" Roman asked while stepping into the carriage.
"Yes, young master," Adam replied firmly, settling beside them.
The Crowell siblings boarded, the carriage wheels rolling toward Ephor Dukedom—towards the heart of the storm.
Duke Jacob Crowell sat helpless before Duke Noah Rockson and Count Jerad Heuman. On the table lay a stack of papers—the cursed agreement.
Jacob's heart was heavy. Years ago, in desperation, he had borrowed from both Noah and Jerad, thinking it would help Presia recover. But these snakes had hidden a clause: failure to repay would mean surrendering the ore dungeon and forcing Presia's people into labor under Ephor's banner, unpaid and broken.
Noah's voice sliced through the silence.
"Jacob," he said smugly, "the time is over. The clause is clear. The dungeon rights, and your laborers, are mine. You signed it with your own hand."
Count Jerad chuckled, tapping his jeweled fingers on the table. "Your kindness, Jacob, has always been your downfall. While you showed mercy to peasants, we strengthened ourselves. Today, you pay for your softness."
Jacob clenched his fists until blood seeped through his palms. He wanted to roar, to cut them down, but he was bound by their cunning politics.
Just as he reached for the quill to sign away Presia's future, a knight entered hurriedly.
"My lord Noah, a carriage has arrived. It is… the young lord and lady of Presia Dukedom."
For a moment, silence filled the room. Then Noah's fake smile stretched wide.
"My nephews? How delightful! Let them in at once. How dare you stop them, knight? They are my beloved kin!"
Jacob's head snapped up in shock. Roman? Selena? Why would they come here?
But little did Duke Noah know, the storm was already inside his palace.
The doors opened. Roman Crowell walked in, calm and composed, Selena by his side, and Butler Adam following respectfully.
Selena's face was tight with nervousness—she knew her uncle's cruelty all too well. But Roman's expression was unreadable, his sharp eyes scanning the room like a predator measuring prey.
"Father," Roman said evenly, "we saw the invitation letter sent by our dear uncle. I thought it would be… polite to pay him a visit."
Noah raised a brow, surprised by the confident tone. He remembered Roman as quiet, almost invisible.
"Oh my dear nephew," Noah drawled mockingly, "I didn't know you could speak. This is the first time I've heard a word from your mouth."
Roman's lips curved into a half-smile. "I don't speak to people who don't matter. You see, I have standards… and you don't fit in that category."
The words cracked Noah's mask. His jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with anger, but he kept his facade.
"Sharp tongue, nephew. Very sharp."
Duke Jacob's voice broke in, worried. "Roman, stop. Don't anger him!"
"Sit down, Father," Roman replied firmly. "This is between me and our uncle."
Selena tensed, ready to draw her sword if things escalated. Noah, trying to regain control, smirked.
"I heard you became the youngest swordmaster, Selena. That's impressive. Another achievement for the Crowell family." His eyes then returned to Roman. "So tell me, why are you here? What business do you think you can handle in this room?"
Roman gestured to Adam. "Butler. The agreement."
"Yes, young master." Adam handed him the parchment.
Roman spread it on the table, his eyes scanning every line. Then he laughed softly, shaking his head.
"Here it is. Hidden clauses, forged phrases. The infamous trickery of Duke Noah Rockson and Count Jerad Heuman. According to this, if repayment is not made, ownership of the dungeon transfers to both lenders, along with Presia's people as free labor. And all this," he lifted the paper, "was tucked away in the fine print, where most eyes wouldn't catch."
Jacob's eyes widened. "So… they cheated us."
Roman slammed the parchment back on the table. "No, Father. They tried to cheat us. But they won't succeed."
Noah's face twisted. "You dare insult me, you useless brat? Know your place! You filthy son of a weak duke—"
Shiiing!
Both Jacob and Selena had drawn their swords, ready to defend. Magic flared around Jacob's hand, but Noah countered swiftly, a flash of power proving why he was feared as the strongest duke.
Roman stepped forward, his aura suddenly bursting forth. The entire chamber trembled. The air thickened, suffocating Noah and Jerad where they sat.
Knights rushed in to defend their master, but Selena and Jacob cut them off, blades clashing in sparks of steel.
Roman walked slowly toward Noah, each step pressing down with suffocating force. Noah staggered under the weight of the aura, gasping for breath.
"Y-you dare…" Noah spat, summoning his magic in desperation.
The clash was brutal. Noah unleashed torrents of magic, his blade sparking with energy, but Roman matched him strike for strike. To Jacob and Selena, it was unthinkable—Roman, once silent and ignored, was now holding his ground against the strongest noble in the Clover Kingdom.
After a flurry of blows, Roman smashed Noah's head onto the table with raw force, cracking the wood beneath. Blood splattered across the parchment.
He leaned close, his voice cold and calm.
"Listen carefully, Uncle. The Crowells will not bow to you or your minions. Cross us again, and your life will be the price."
Roman stood tall, his sword resting against Noah's throat.
"I want a new agreement," he declared. "One written in fairness, here and now, in the presence of your treasurer. The dungeon rights remain ours. The loan shall be restructured, and repayment terms transparent. And," his voice dropped lower, "I want you to lend Presia one hundred thousand Valon Clover Coins."
Noah's face twisted in defiance. "I will never—"
In a blink, Roman's blade slashed. Noah screamed as his left hand dropped onto the table, blood pouring from the stump.
Jerad went pale, trembling as he pressed himself against his chair.
Roman's eyes turned to him. "And you, Count Jerad. Your county thrives with merchants, does it not? Share some of that wealth. Redirect trade to Presia. If you don't… I will personally drag your merchants one by one into Presia until they work for us willingly."
Jerad's voice shook. "Y-yes, young master… I will see to it immediately."
Roman turned back to Noah, who was clutching his wound, face white with agony.
"Well, Uncle? Do we have a deal? Or shall I take the other hand too?"
Noah, broken and bleeding, finally gave in. "…Fine. Bring the treasurer. We will draft the new contract."
Roman smiled faintly, sheathing his sword. "Good. I knew you'd see reason."